On the north side of the Roswell Riverwalk, there is a house in neglect. For several years I have watched as it fell into further disrepair. I wondered about the original builder: What were his dreams? Who was he? What did he see as he looked out those windows over the Chattahoochee River? Did he raise a family there? Did he hope that home would be a haven for generations?
In the last few months, parts of the house have begun to fall. Music murals and interior fixtures are visible from the road. It is sad to see what was once a beautiful home in a lovely location die a slow death.
And then I remember, I too am nothing more than a breath on this planet. My days, good and bad, do not register on any cosmic scale. My life, when all is said and done, will eventually be like this house: lingering memories for a time, and then, one day, gone.
How grateful I am for a Heavenly Father who knows the numbers of hairs on my head and loves me, in spite of my insignificance. He knows my joys and sorrows, my hopes and dreams, my motives and my heart. In Him I do have permanent value. There is no false gilt, but rather the Master shining through me, pure as gold and beautiful.
words and photo: mine
quote: John Geddes
overlay: Kim Klassen
Photoshop actions: Yellow Sky